Blank Space
by HRHThePrincesss
Summary: On the night Castiel saved Dean, Gabriel pulled another soul from the depths of Hell. How will the Winchesters react when they find out John fathered another child they knew nothing about? How will the sister, who they knew nothing about, fit in their lives? (I know it's a T. Swift song, but the I Prevail version is the one that fits this story. Give it a listen if you haven't!)
1. Chapter 1

_...nice to meet you, where you been?, I could show you incredible things..._

* * *

Gabriel'd been able to enter Hell, making his way carefully, quietly, to the palace. He was secretly grateful that the brother he'd learned his sleuth from was the angel who was responsible for the creation of Hell. Castiel'd had a difficult, but ultimately successful time pulling Dean from here. He could only hope he'd be as successful in finding and taking her.

In his research, he'd located the living quarters long before this trip, and knew approximately where he'd find her. He crept into the bedroom. He didn't see her at first, and became worried that Crowley had taken her wherever he'd gone. Word would get out quickly that an angel had freed Dean Winchester from Hell, and it would be infinitely more difficult and dangerous to free her in the future. _It has to be tonight._ He looked around the room, wondering if she was stashed in another room. Until he finally heard her. He stepped around the far side bed, finding her curled up on the floor, facing the corner.

Gabriel's heart thundered in his chest, seeing her like this. She was naked, her bare flesh covered in marks. Lash marks, scratches, bites. He shuddered with anger, contemplating whether he could find and kill Crowley and still get her out without anyone noticing. But then a sob broke through his thoughts. She sobbed a few times, her hands covering her face, her body curled into a ball. Gabriel approached her slowly.

"Judas Morgan?" he asked.

"Please go away," she sobbed. "Please. I'm t-tired." He came to her, producing a plain white sheet. He knelt, wrapping her in it and lifting her in his arms. She tensed at first, but he could tell by the dimness of her soul that she wasn't strong enough to fight if he'd actually be a threat. Which he wasn't. She looked up at him, and something in her realized that he wasn't a demon or anything hellish. She sighed with relief, her head falling to his shoulder. She curled against him, and he held her. His wings closed around them. She startled, the sheet falling askew. He accidentally touched her bare skin, his hand against her back, in the spot that would forever after be a raised pink hand print, though she would feel no pain until she was back in her earthly body.

"It's only my wings, sweet Jude," he whispered. He re-adjusted the sheet, careful not to touch her again. He cradled her and she relaxed again, as he raised her from the palace, from her own personal Hell.

* * *

Jude felt herself flinch awake. It happened sometimes. She'd take a long, hard hit of whatever opiate she could get her hands on, relax into the high, and her heart would skip, waking her suddenly. She joked with herself that one of these days, her heart would forget to jump start itself and she would finally be done. Sometimes she hoped for it, other times, she was completely indifferent.

She tried to sit up, only to be met with a solid presence above her. She fell back, confused and disoriented. She reached up, her hands against something solid, like a wall, above her. Her heart began to pound. She tried to squirm, hoping she'd just wedged herself under some piece of furniture in her high. But she couldn't move more than a few inches on either side of herself.

"Oh shit," she swore, beginning to panic. It was dark, and cold, and she had no idea where she was. But it felt like a grave. And that's when the reality tumbled over her like a wave, overwhelming her and threatening to drown her in disbelief. She began pounding on the wood above her, kicking and flailing. _I shot myself_ , she thought, tears rolling down the sides of her face. She finally got the lid of the casket to crack, and she pushed on it with her legs, only to be overcome by earth. _I'm supposed to be dead. I shot myself through the roof of my mouth with the old pistol I stole from an ex I can't even remember._ She fought through the dirt, losing her breath several times. _My breath,_ she thought ironically. _I'm not supposed to be alive. I ended it. And obviously, I was dead. Someone buried me._ She kicked and pushed and finally found the surface, first with her hands, then her head.

She pulled and kicked and pushed until she was laying on the ground next to her own headstone. She looked up at it. Judas Morgan. Birth date. Death date. And a cross. She rolled her eyes. If her mother hadn't preceded her in death, she would have blamed that on her. She gulped the air in, trying to calm herself down. She sat up, the blood rushing to her head, making her dizzy.

"Easy, Jude," she told herself, startled by her own voice. Raspy from apparent disuse, but she sounded almost better for the wear. She brushed some of the dirt from her face and arms, taking deep breaths. Slowly, she got to her feet, leaning on her own headstone as she steadied. She stood in the dark, looking around, letting her eyes adjust. When she realized what she was seeing, she gasped. Every tree, every headstone, every blade of grass for as far as she could see around her was toppled over, lying on the ground. She stumbled away from the grave she'd just crawled from, trying not to trip over any of the fallen headstones.


	2. Chapter 2

_...magic, madness, heaven, sin, saw you there and I thought..._

* * *

Jude walked about a mile to the small town whose cemetery she'd been buried in. She was glad to see that the farther she walked from the cemetery, the more normal her surroundings looked. The image collapsed trees and headstones would be etched into her memory forever, but getting away from them was crucial to her sanity. She wiped as much of the dirt from herself as possible, glad that whoever had buried her hadn't had her all dressed up.

She saw a convenience store up ahead and entered it. No one was inside, not even a clerk. She looked around, thankful that there was no one. She discreetly grabbed a bottle of cheap body wash from one of the shelves as she walked through to the bathroom in the back.

She entered the bathroom, glad that it was a single stall. She locked herself inside, then turned to the sink. She turned the water, immediately splashing it on her face. She opened the little bottle, lathering her dirty hands, then proceeding to wash her face and neck. After getting most of the dirt off, she finally looked at herself in the mirror. Same long brown hair. Same deep brown eyes. Same freckled face, though reddened from clawing herself to the surface, then walking in the cold night air. But it was her.

A knock at the door startled her out of her thoughts.

"Just a minute," she called out. The knocking came again. "Oh for fuck's sake." She muttered as she shoved the rest of the bottle of soap in the trash. She opened the door, confronted immediately by a man. He looked down at her, tall and dressed casually. "Sorry." She said, brushing past him.

"Are you alright?" he asked, seeing the dirt in her hair and on her clothes, her knuckles raw from cracking the casket open.

"Fine," she said, trying to dart out of the store before the clerk came back.

"Hey," he caught up to her, touching her arm. She jerked away from him. "Sorry. You don't seem fine. Let me buy you something to eat."

"Fuck off, dude," she said, looking him in the eyes for the first time. He put his hands up in surrender, backing away. "Do I know you?" she asked nervously. He looked incredibly familiar to her.

"I don't think so," he said. His voice, even that sounds familiar.

"Sorry, weird night," she said, turning away.

"Wait," he said. She turned back to him, but didn't meet his eyes again. "Please let me buy you something to eat. You look like it's been a rough night." And in that moment, she knew she could either go back to her old life, go back to the way she manipulated and used people. Or she could start new and try her damnedest to be better.

"No, that's ok, I'm fine," she said. She shifted nervously, knowing how awkward she must seem. "Really. Just, partied too hard. Have a good night." She said, turning and walking out the door. He didn't follow her.

* * *

Gabriel watched her go, happy to see her alive again. He was glad she hadn't lost her sass, glad to see her foul mouth had survived. He thought she was very clever and witty behind all of the cursing. And he'd seen the light of recognition in her eyes when she looked up at him. _She doesn't know you_ , he thought. In spite of popular belief among angels, he didn't think any humans could properly perceive an angel in its true form. _And if she could, I definitely don't look like my vessel._ But she'd looked at him like she knew him all the same. And her demeanor softened. He recalled the wounded, weakened soul that had curled against him as he carried her out. He watched her go, her soul already brighter and stronger, and was glad she was his charge.

* * *

Sam and Dean Winchester sat with Castiel in a little strip club on the outskirts of the city.

"You're sure she works here?" Sam asked.

"Please tell me which one is supposed to be our sister so I don't embarrass myself," Dean said. Cas looked around, spotting her at the end of the bar. She wasn't stripping. She was bartending.

"The brunette at the end of the bar," Cas said. Dean turned, seeing her.

"Oh thank God, she's not a stripper," he said.

"What was her name?" Sam asked.

"Jude," Cas said.

* * *

Jude sat out at the picnic table that served as a break room behind the bar. She sat on one side, while Sam and Dean sat on the other. Castiel remained standing, trying to give them privacy without leaving the situation.

"So, you're my brothers, then?" she asked. Dean nodded.

"We are," Sam said.

"And you, Dean is it?" she addressed Dean. He nodded. "You died, went to Hell and he," she pointed to Cas, "Lifted you out and you woke up in your grave?"

"That's right," Dean answered. "Just like you did, on the same day, I'm guessing. Right Cas?"

"I didn't lift her, so I'm not sure," he said. She looked back and forth between the three men.

"If all this is true, and I haven't lost my mind, then who pulled me out of Hell? If it's not your friend here."

"Gabriel, from what I heard," Cas answered.

"Gabriel? Like, the archangel?" she asked. "Alright, look, I might be just some bartender in a no name town, but even I'm not stupid enough to fall for-" And then he appeared. The man from the convenience store. The voice from her dreams. He stepped out the backdoor of the bar. Her eyes widened, and when he began walking toward them, she got up. "What are you doing here? Do you know him?" Sam and Dean looked confused, but Castiel and the man locked eyes in recognition.

"How did I know you three wouldn't be able to leave her alone?" he asked. She looked frightened. He turned to her, looking more embarrassed than anything else.

"Judas, this is my brother, Gabriel," Cas said.

"We've met," he said. She looked at the four men in front of her. Two claimed to be her half-brothers, the other two claiming to be angels. She felt sick to her stomach.

"This is too weird, please, just leave me alone, all of you," she said.

"We can't," Dean said.


	3. Chapter 3

_...oh my God, look at that face, you look like my next mistake..._

* * *

Gabriel watched her try to process all of it. She sat on the edge of the hotel bed, looking warily in his direction. She still couldn't quite bring herself to meet his eyes.

"So you're the archangel, Gabriel?" she asked.

"That's me," he said. "Although, I wasn't going for this whole full disclosure thing."

"You were just going to follow me around, see how creeped out I would get?" He laughed.

"I was going to watch over you from afar, Jude. Stay out of your way and life as best I could." She shook her head, looking away from him.

"You pulled me out of Hell?" He remembered the tired, weak soul who easily laid in his arms, not fighting or frightened by him. He nodded.

"Glad to see you're doing better," he said. And she was. She was taking better care of herself. She hadn't touched any of the drugs she used to take pleasure in. She hadn't slept around at all. She'd been oddly cautious of herself.

"Why are you here now?"

"A human of your importance requires protection," he said. She looked up at him, finally meeting his eyes.

"And I need protection?" she asked.

"With Lucifer looming, God thought it best to send me to watch out for you," he said.

"What makes me so damn important?" she asked, almost to herself. He could hear the dejected, ashamed tone in her voice. _She has no idea who she is_ , he thought.

"I know how difficult it must be to understand, but you and Sam and Dean are very important human beings," he explained. He wasn't supposed to tell her why she was so important. And seeing her struggle with what she did know, he knew he couldn't. _Her mind will shatter under the weight._

"And what if I say I don't believe in any of this?" He sat on the edge of the other hotel bed, opposite her. The handprint on her back inexplicably warmed.

"Haven't you compared prints with Dean?" Her eyes widened. "The handprint on his shoulder and the handprint on your back? Castiel didn't know any better, but I tried not to mark you."

"I don't know w-what you're talking about," she said, looking away.

"I would venture to say that his burns at least a bit warmer in Cas' presence. How about yours?" She looked up at him. He smiled, loving the retreating look in her eyes. _Smart as a whip_ , he thought. _Sorry Jude, this really is the gospel._

"What exactly does God want with someone like me?" she asked. "If all of what you're saying is true, which I'm still having trouble with."

"Just trust me, Jude," he said, looking down.

"You're not going to tell me?"

"I can't," he looked back up at her. She laughed in frustration.

"Michael's obsessed with Dean, I get that. Dean's his perfect vessel. Same with Lucifer and Sam," she said. "But you already have a vessel, clearly. So why did you save me? Why are you here?" Gabriel looked at her, his eyes full of concern.

"Please just trust me," he said. "I know that's asking a lot-"

"You're damn right it is! I took my own life," she said. "I thought God threw ungrateful people like me into Hell for a reason." She looked around the room, not really seeing it. "I wake up in my own casket and have to claw my way out, through six feet of dirt, all the while remembering, I put that pistol in my mouth and I pulled the damn trigger. I died. But there I was. Breathing and alive."

"I know how difficult it must be-"

"No, you don't." She looked him dead in the eyes then. "You see, I shot myself because I didn't want to live anymore. Life has never gone right or worked out for me. I'm sure you already know that."

"You can't tell me you were finally at peace. When I carried you out, you didn't kick or scream or fight me," he said.

"It was where I belonged," she said quietly.

"No it wasn't," he countered. "I'm not going to argue with you. Just, try to trust me."

* * *

Jude sat across from Gabe, a chess board on the table between them. She'd finally agreed to letting him hover around her, finally agreed to being part of Sam and Dean's way of life. _What the fuck do I have to lose?_ , she thought.

 _I can't take my eyes off of her_ , he thought. And the thought was frustrating. She barely made eye contact with him or Cas, ever. _She thinks she's some kind of abomination_ , he thought. _She couldn't be farther from the truth_. She made her move and looked up, catching him watching her. Her heart skipped and she hated herself for it.

"This would be a lot more fun if I didn't know you were letting me win," she said irritably, shifting uneasily.

"What makes you think I'm letting you win?" he asked.

"Can't angels read minds, anticipate human action?" A smile spread across his face as he leaned forward, studying the board. "What's so funny?"

"You barely believe me, and yet you think I'm all powerful," he said.

"Are you laughing at me?" His eyes lifted to hers again.

"No, not at all," he said. If only she knew. His eyes held hers just a moment longer than they should have and her heart skipped again, her eyes dropping to the chessboard. He saw a bit of heightened color rise in her cheeks.

"Just make the move." She felt the pause between them and couldn't help but look up. His eyes fell to the board, the hint of a smile on his lips.

* * *

"What does Gabriel want with her, anyway?" Dean asked Castiel.

"She's in his charge. Like you and Sam are mine."

"No offense, but Michael has his eye on me, Lucifer on Sam, and you're our guardian. But she gets a freaking archangel? What's the story there?"

"I'm really not supposed to say," Cas said.

"Oh now you have to tell us," Dean said, looking over at Sam, who'd become interested in the conversation.

"The angels have been circling your family for generations. His special interest in her is, related, but kind of his own."

"So, what, is he like, in love with her or something?"

"He's been watching over her soul for a long time, I think since she was born," Cas explained.

"Why would an angel need to watch a specific person for their whole life?"

"Dean, there are somethings I really can't say," Cas said. "She's specific to him. Part of it is the Winchester relation."

"And the other part of it?"

"I really can't say. Sorry."


	4. Chapter 4

_...love's a game, wanna play?..._

* * *

Jude sat next to Gabriel in the pickup truck.

"I thought angels hated traveling by human means," she said. "Cas hates riding in the Impala."

"Castiel needs to take a breath and enjoy himself once in awhile," Gabe said. "I've always liked riding down the road in one of these things, taking my sweet ass time to get somewhere." She nodded, looking around, noticing that it was just a single cab, noticing the waterproof lock box bolted just under the back windows. "Besides, I was thinking you wouldn't like being cooped up in that car with them all the time." She looked up at him.

"I think you care too much about my comfort," she said. "I'm a big girl."

"You know the bickering and back and forth with them is going to get on your nerves," he said, not letting her discourage him.

"A lot of things get on my nerves," she said. "You can't fix them all."

"I'm working on it," he said. She looked up at him, her eyes locking with his. He hadn't meant to say it out loud. She eyed him, realizing that he hadn't meant to actually say what he said. _That was an internal thought_ , she thought. _What else is he thinking that he isn't saying?_ She nodded. "Just, ride with me. Alright? I'm more capable of protecting you anyway."

"Okay," she said. "I guess it would be nice to not always ride with them." She looked away, opening the door. "Thanks, Gabe." She said, getting out of the truck before she let herself look at his eyes again.

* * *

Gabriel'd noticed the tattoo. He wondered how long it'd been there. _Couldn't have been there long_ , he thought She didn't usually wear low-cut tops, but with the heat of the summer upon them, she was wearing a black tank top cut lower than normal. He knew Sam and Dean'd probably insisted on it. _Why couldn't it be on her shoulder, or arm, anywhere but on her chest._ It drew his eyes, made him long to touch it, to kiss it. _Why does it have to be in the exact spot where I'd like to put my mouth when I imagine making love with her? She's already so damn gorgeous. I already think way too much about how she might feel, how she would taste._ He gripped the steering wheel, willing himself to breathe. _Like I'm not already in love with her soul, but this goddamn vessel is so attracted to her that it aches._

* * *

She stood in front of him, her back turned to him. He held up the back of her shirt, studying the handprint in the center of her back. It looked like a scar from a burn, and technically, that's what it was.

"Does it hurt?" he asked. She shook her head.

"It never has," she said. "It kind of, glows warm when, you know, you're around. But it never hurts."

"I never meant to mark you," he said. "I'm really sorry." She shrugged.

"I've put this body through worse," she said.

Jude looked in the mirror at them as he studied the scar on her back. He was taller than her, his coloring lighter. If she didn't know them, she'd think they would make a pretty couple. She wondered if people thought that when they were out together. _Do they think we're married? Maybe we have a couple kids at home? Do they think we're just dating?_ Looking in the mirror, she saw what could've been a happy couple. The kind just out on a road trip, happy and in love. The truth was frightening. And unbelieveable. Gabriel the archangel and Judas, his charge, the ex junkie and whore he pulled from the depths of Hell and brought back to life. Sometimes, she didn't believe it herself.

Gabriel put the back of her shirt down, covering the scar in the shape of his hand. He looked up, catching her eye in the mirror a beat before she looked away. He wondered how long she'd been looking at him, at them. He saw the height difference between her and his vessel, the way the top of her head came to his shoulder, the way her darker hair and eyes made his look so much lighter. He looked down at her, her hands on the cheap hotel dresser, her body pressed against it, trying to prevent herself from brushing against him. Her dark hair sweeping her shoulders, the tattoo over her left breast that drove him crazy just barely peaking out. _She's so close_ , he thought. _I can smell the soap she uses, I can feel the heat from her body._

Before he knew what he was doing, he spun her around and lifted her up to sit on the dresser, bringing her almost to his eye level.

"Gabe-" she gasped just as his mouth closed over hers. She didn't kiss back, her eyes wide. But he didn't stop, his lips moving softly over hers. He was just about to pull away and give up when he felt her mouth press against his, so hesitant, almost afraid. Her eyes fell closed as she gave in to her own attraction. _Girls dream about the bad boy, the rebel, the demon. Let an angel kiss you_ , she thought. _Tell me you don't see stars behind your goddamn eyes._ She broke the kiss, looking up at him with wide, glassy eyes, her cheeks and lips flushed. _I couldn't have imagined her prettier than she normally is, but here she is, somehow prettier._ He was about to reach out for her, about to pull her back to him, to continue kissing her. But she slid off of the dresser, walking away from him, her hand coming to her mouth. She felt how warm she was, how shaky and caught off guard she felt.

"I'm sorry Jude, I didn't mean to, I just," he stammered. _Of course I meant to_ , he thought.

"Just couldn't resist, right?" she asked. He could hear the sting in her voice and immediately regretted his wording.

"That's not what I meant," he said. "I didn't-"

"Save it," she said. "Just keep your goddamn hands off of me." When he didn't answer, she turned, finding him gone.

* * *

The next morning, she hesitated for as long as possible before she left her room, coming to the lounge area in the hotel that offered a complimentary breakfast. Thankfully, both of her brothers were up, sitting at a table against the far wall. Dean ate breakfast while Sam did some research on his laptop. Gabriel and Castiel sat with them.

Jude looked around at the other people in the lounge, the older couple in the corner, the younger couple with two small children. She felt horribly conspicuous. The four handsome men at the table and her, who were they? She didn't feel that she looked enough like either of her brothers to pass for family. Were they a group of friends on a road trip? Maybe they were a small-time band out on the road. Definitely not the three living Winchesters and their guardian angels. She cringed. _Who the fuck am I?_ , she wondered.

She felt Gabriel's eyes on her, felt the heat radiating from the handprint on her back as she poured herself a cup of coffee. She stirred some cream into before making herself sit down at the table.

"Sleep well?" Gabe asked her. She laid the spoon she'd been stirring her coffee with on a napkin, nodding.

"Yep, just fine," she lied. She chanced a look up at him. Somehow, he found enough time to smile and wink before she could hurriedly look away. _Why do you have to do that?_ , she asked him inside her head. _Why?_ She felt the blush creep into her cheeks. _Why the hell is one of the four archangels so preoccupied with me? Michael is preoccupied with Dean because Dean is his perfect vessel. Same with Sam and Lucifer. But Gabriel has a vessel and he's not part of this battle,_ she thought.

Gabriel loved watching her squirm, watching the girlish flush set in her face. He originally wasn't going to mess with her this morning after the intimate moment they'd shared the night before. But knowing she'd been hiding in her room, seeing the shy, almost innocent way she avoided his eyes, he couldn't resist.


	5. Chapter 5

_...new money, suit and tie, I can read you like a magazine..._

* * *

"Are you, are you attracted to him?" Dean asked his sister. Jude flashed to their kiss the night before. A mild flush rose in her cheeks.

"No, why would you think that?" she asked.

"Because you're blushing like a schoolgirl-"

"Shut up," she said, avoiding his eyes.

"He seems to have a pretty big preoccupation with you." She shrugged.

"I don't know what to tell you. I don't know why he's caught up on me. I haven't been at this otherworldly shit for long."

"I see the way he looks at you," Dean studied her face. "And I see the way you look at him."

"So what's it to you?" she asked, sounding irritated.

"I just, I wish I knew what his motivations are."

"Why, Dean? We didn't know each other until these two 'angels' brought us back from Hell and back to life. I'm a big girl, you don't have to look out for me," she said.

"Who says I was looking out for you? I'm just trying to figure out why I got a regular angel for a keeper and you get an archangel." He joked. She laughed.

"I wish I knew," she said.

* * *

"- _sounds so sweet, coming from the lips of an angel, hearing those words it makes me weak, and I never wanna say goodbye, but girl you make it hard to be faithful, with the lips of an angel_ ," Jude jumped, realizing what she was singing. "Oh god," she groaned, covering her face. She'd let him see the mark on her back, let herself be vulnerable. _I stood too close, got too good a look at those eyes and I melted like a fucking virginal schoolgirl._

* * *

Gabe sat straight up in his bed. He tried not to eavesdrop, especially on Jude. But he'd heard her singing to herself in the shower and he'd let himself indulge. But the lyrics of the song, which she'd sung so easily, caught his attention immediately. He thought of her singing that song, in the shower, which she ran hot. He could always tell by the flush on her skin that she preferred hot showers. He imagined her naked, relaxed, enjoying her solitude as the hot water rained down on her bare flesh. He became very aware of his very human male reaction to the images in his head and laid back down, turning over on his side in frustration. Most people thought angels were not anatomically correct. And in his true form, that was accurate. But in his earth vessel, he was equipped like any other male on the planet. And right then, he wanted nothing more than to be in there with her, to lift her up against the shower wall and make love with her. _And she wants me, she wants me too, I can feel it_ , he thought. _To love her, to make her feel good...to make her happy._ So often, he knew she wondered why she'd been revived and why he insisted on being at her side.

In her life before she'd been promiscuous, she'd been a junkie, she'd hated herself. Her mother'd done that to her. A fling with John Winchester'd led to her, and her mother never let her forget it. And when she started to rebel, to act out against what her mother deemed becoming of a young woman, she'd went off the deep end. Gabriel cringed, thinking of the young girl locked in a closet for hours, days at times, forced to repent for her behavior, locked away and starved. He'd been there, sat next to her in the closet, listened to her cry, watched her dig her nails into her forearms until she drew blood, wavering between hating her mother and hating herself. He'd seen worse cases of abuse and neglect, but Jude's pain called out to him. He couldn't help her then, but he couldn't bring himself to leave her many times.

He'd been there when she finally escaped, moving out on her own. Gabriel had hope that she would go to college, stabilize her life and move on from her past. He'd been there when she signed for her first apartment, a little efficiency apartment not far from her college. He'd been there when she went to her first classes, when she got the job as a waitress. He'd been there when she made friends with a classmate, another girl, who took her to her first college party. He'd been there when she tried cocaine. He'd been there when she had a horrible, terrifying trip on LSD.

Gabriel watched as her life spiraled out of control, as she lost her job, failed out of school, and dove hard into the drugs. He had to watch as she became more and more problematic. As the abuse she'd suffered as a child and adolescent became the abuse she now inflicted upon herself. He'd wept when she shot heroine for the first time, at the hands of some junkie who was as lost as she was. But all he could do was remain at her side, invisible and powerless. He begged for permission to take a vessel. His requests were denied. He watched as she began to sell herself for money, for drugs. It was bittersweet how much she enjoyed sex; she'd actually enjoyed the tricks for a while. It broke his heart. But he never faltered.

He remembered the night he decided to take matters into his own hands and take a vessel, regardless of Heaven's will. Jude'd accepted a john, let him take her to a hotel. It wasn't until it was almost too late that Gabriel'd realized how much danger she was in. It'd started like normal, but ended with the guy pinning her down, repeatedly slapping her, hitting her with full-force punches, even choking her as he fucked her. She'd had a few rough tricks in the past, but nothing like this. Gabriel stood in horror, waiting, desperate for him to stop, to leave like they always did. And finally, he did. Without saying a word, and without paying her. She laid on the bed for several minutes, trying to catch her breath around the pain. Her face was bleeding, her chest felt like it was full of knives. She finally got up, trying to walk to the bathroom. She fell, consumed by the pain and dizziness. She crawled to the bathroom, pulled herself up by the sink. She washed the blood from her face, her breathing ragged and uneasy. He'd broken several of her ribs. She'd stripped off what was left of her clothes, crawled into the shower and let the hot water ran over her battered, tired body. But she never cried. It frightened him so badly, he'd gone in search of a vessel as soon as he was sure she'd be okay. But by the time he returned a few days later, she'd committed suicide.

* * *

Jude heard him before she saw him. And until then, she'd thought he was only a figment of her imagination. Her brothers, Cas, and Gabe could tell her that she'd been pulled from Hell by Gabe, but she never really believed it. She would dream of it, images flashing in her mind, memories seeming to try and play out before she could dismiss them. She turned, Gabriel to her left, her brothers and Cas to her right, the four men slightly in front of her, and Crowley before them.

"Judas," he said, sounding shocked as well as pleased. She cringed. _No_ , she thought. _Please no_. "I should've know you were pulled with your brother. Still, it's been too long." He took a step toward them and Gabriel put himself between them.

"Leave her alone," Gabe said.

"Now Gabriel, I wouldn't hurt her," he said. He looked over the angel's shoulder, winking at her. "Would I, sweet Judas?" She felt filthy, the shoved-away dreams and shadowy memories of Hell that she'd tried so desperately to repress, to convince herself they weren't real, were suddenly validated. "No one ever harmed her in Hell. In fact, she had more fun in Hell than she ever had in life, right darling?" She shrank away, backing away from his words, from all of them. _It's all real_ , she thought in a panic. _All of it._ Sam and Dean looked back at her as she backed away, then turned, walking briskly away from them.


	6. Chapter 6

_...ain't it funny, rumors fly, and I know you heard about me..._

* * *

She sat on the edge of the bed. Tears rolled down her cheeks, her face drawn with grief. She heard the door open behind her and turned, startled.

"It's just me," Gabe said softly, closing the door behind him and locking it. He came around the bed, standing in front of her. She wiped her tears, but couldn't meet his eyes. "Whatever it is you're remembering now, and are clearly ashamed of, I already knew before I pulled you from Hell."

"Doesn't make it better," she said, her voice unsteady. "I didn't remember. I thought it was all just dreams. Because he's right. Hell wasn't Hell for me. Because I liked every goddamn second of it." She turned her face to the side, so ashamed of herself that she wished he'd be disgusted with her, that he'd get upset and yell or be angry with her. Instead, he came to the bed and sat next to her. "He wanted to make me Queen. H-He kept me in this, beautiful dark palace. I was treated like a princess. And a whore. All the pleasure and sex and orgasms I wanted. The things I did, the things I let him do to me." She kept her eyes closed tightly, refusing to open them even as the tears ran freely. "And I l-loved it."

"Look at me, Jude," he said softly. She shook her head. He reached for her hands, feeling how cold they were, how much they trembled in his.

"Dean says, he remembered Hell and that it was awful. He was tortured and then, he tortured people." She opened her eyes, but didn't look up at him. "Why wasn't I ever tortured? Why do I remember Hell like it was a dream?" He could hear the self-loathing in her voice, her self-repulsion so evident that it made him ache. "How can you even want to touch me?" she whispered. "How can you stand to be around me?" She jerked her hands away from his. She got up, going over to stand by the window.

"Jude, I was aware of all of it. We knew Dean was torturing souls when God sent Castiel for him and I knew that you," he paused, wondering what words to use so as not to further humiliate her.

"Were getting happily fucked stupid by the King of Hell?" she spat. And for the first time since he'd come to talk to her, she looked him in the eyes.

"Are you saying it that way to try and scare me away from you?" he asked.

"I said it that way because it's true," she said, sounding dejected, her eyes dropping from his again.

"Come back," he said. "Please, come let me hold you." She stood, her arms crossed over her chest, framing her breasts. Gabe loved her so much it made him ache, especially when she was upset or hurting. She hesitated, but came back to the bed. She let him pull her to his side, let her head rest against his shoulder. He held her hands in his, pressing kisses to her forehead. "Let me tell you something about Hell, Jude. Because most humans have it all wrong. Hell isn't what you or Dean or anyone thinks it is. Have you ever liked something so much, and you let yourself have too much of it. Like, candy that you might've ate to much of, or maybe a song you listened to too many times and got sick of?" She nodded. "Hell is like that. Only, it takes your basest, most shamed and hidden desire and it lets you gorge yourself on it. Sure, you might think you like it. You might even actually like it for a while. Eventually, you tire of committing the same acts over and over. But you can't ever stop. Hell won't let you stop." He could feel her shaking, heard her sniffle several times while he spoke. But she never interrupted.

"I'm so sorry," she sobbed.

"For what?" he asked fiercely. "You haven't done anything wrong."

"I just, I feel weird, you knowing all of it," she managed.

"You love sex, Jude. I've never understood why humans find such shame in liking something that God gifted to you," he reassured her. "I can assure you, it was Hell's work to make humans feel shame. Not God. God created humans this way, created you this way. And I think it's so beautiful." She pulled back to look him in the eyes. "You're the only one who hates you for what you love so much, Jude. God doesn't. I don't." Her lips trembled, and she closed her eyes, fresh tears falling down her cheeks.

"I would've said yes to him," she said. "I would've been the Queen of Hell. I wanted to be. He kept me in that palace, kept my body stimulated and satisfied. He asked me between orgasms to be the Queen and, eventually, I would've agreed."

"Your will is stronger than you think," he said.

"If there is anything I lack, it's will-"

"Stop it," he spat.

"It's true. You know, you know everything. I've never held back from being high or drunk or having my brains fucked out," she said.

"You didn't do those things because you can't help it," he said, frustration evident in his voice. "You did them because you thought it was all you deserved. You were punishing yourself." He paused, trying not to be upset with her. "And you did what you did with Crowley because you thought it was what you deserved. You like sex, sure. But you let him do all of those things to you because you thought you deserved to be punished and humiliated."

"That's not how I remember it," she said softly.

"Do you what to know how I found you when I came for you in Hell?" he asked. She didn't answer, only shrugging her shoulders. He got up, kneeling before her. "Look at me." He took her face into his hands, wiping the tear trails on her cheeks. "You were in that room he kept you in. I was told you'd be there, but I couldn't find you right away. You were curled up in a ball on the floor, on the far side of the room beside the bed, crying silently. I don't even think you saw me at first. There were marks all over you, lash marks, bite marks, marks where I think he'd scratched you. You were weak, your soul much dimmer than it is now. You say you enjoyed being there, letting him have you. But what I saw was a battered, used soul, just as tortured as if you'd been tortured next to Dean. And when I lifted you in my arms, you know what you did?" She searched his eyes. "You curled against me like a hurt animal and cried with relief."


	7. Chapter 7

_...so hey, let's be friends, I'm dying to see how this one ends..._

* * *

"If Dean finds out we took the car for a ride, he'll kill us," Jude said, laughing.

"Dean isn't gonna do shit, although it's almost worth letting him see us pull up in it, just to rile him up," Gabe said. They sped down the old, unlined country roads, the windows down, the balmy, warm summer's night air blowing through her hair. She tossed her head back, her eyes shut, letting the wind breeze over her. Gabriel watched her from the driver's seat, as always, in awe of her beauty and spirit. Her bruises had healed, her arm no longer in a cast. Seeing her laugh as she let herself be happy, it was one of the sweetest things he'd ever witnessed.

She opened her eyes as he pulled off on the side of the road. At first she thought something was wrong, but she looked around outside of the car and saw nothing. She looked back at Gabriel and was startled by how intensely he was looking at her.

"What are we doing, Gabe?" she asked.

"I don't know, Jude. What are we doing?" She looked over at him, her eyes at once nervous and questioning. "Are we going to keep pretending like we don't have feelings for each other?" She turned forward, looking out the windshield.

"What do you want with me?"

"You kissed me."

"I'm pretty sure I'm not the one who initiated that."

"You didn't stop me." He paused. "You kissed me back, Jude. Dean's right," he said. She turned back to him. "You blush like a schoolgirl." She turned, sliding over to him, with a look he'd never seen before. She grabbed him by the collar of his jacket and shoved him back against the corner formed between the front seat and the car door. He tensed, ready for her to strike him. She paused, looking up at him, his light brown eyes, his mouth. And she leaned in, touching her lips to his. She felt his hands come to her upper arms, sliding around her back, holding her against him. She let her eyes fall closed and again, she saw stars. Feeling his hands on her, his mouth, letting herself have it, it felt like coming home. And that frightened her. She tried to pull away from him. "No," he said, holding her to him. He smoothed her hair back from her face.

"Isn't this like, against the rules or something?" He smiled.

"Not quite," he said softly. He touched his lips to hers, so gentle. She couldn't remember anyone ever being as gentle with her as he was. And it scared the hell out of her. She shoved herself away from him. "Come back, Jude, come back," he said softly. But she pulled away, her face burning hot with embarrassment.

"Please just take me back," she said.

"No," he said. "You're going to talk to me. I pulled you out of Hell, I've kept you as safe as I could, I've kept watch over you. The least you can do is talk to me. Tell me why you can't bear for someone to be nice to you."

"I'm so damn tired of men trying to convince me I owe them something. I don't owe you shit. I never asked to be pulled from Hell. I fucked around, I whored myself out, I shot up whatever drug I could get my hands on and when I couldn't take it anymore, I killed myself, remember? I knew where I was going long before I ended up there."

"So that's it? This thing, the kisses, the friendship, the way you look at me, the way you look when you catch me looking at you, it all means nothing?"

"What does an archangel want with someone as fucked up as me, Gabriel?" She looked down at her hands. "Just take me back to the hotel-"

"I love you, alright?" he spat, frustration evident in his voice. She looked over at him.

"Shut up, no you don't," she said, looking away. If it was possible, her face burned even redder.

"Why do you think God sent me for you?" he asked.

"You said, it took an angel of your power to pull me," she said. "I just assumed you were the only one willing to set foot in Hell." She chanced a look up at him. His light brown eyes held her.

"And why do you think I was the only one willing?" he asked. She shrugged, refusing to look at him.

"You know, if you were anyone else, and you took me out in the middle of nowhere like this and refused to take me home, I'd be freaked out," she said.

"But it's me," he said. And something about the way he said it, the way it hit her while she thought about all of the times he'd been there with her, for her, protecting her, it disarmed her. She felt the tears welling in her eyes, threatening to embarrass her further. "You're crying-"

"Just shut up," she pleaded. "It's you, it's always been you, you jerk." She wiped her eyes frustratedly. He looked over at her, watched her fight her emotions.

"Is it so unimaginable to you that someone could love you?" he asked. She shrugged again.

"You're an angel, Gabriel," she said, her voice quivering. "Like, one of the angels. I'm not even sure I fully understand what you are."

"I'm just a guy, Jude," he said. She glared at him.

"You're not 'just a guy'. You're powerful and strong and you can heal people, you can kill people. You can bring them back from the dead," she shook her head.

"But for you, I'm just a guy," he said. She looked him in the eyes, which wasn't something she did often.

"Gabe, you pulled me from Hell," she said. "I killed myself and went to Hell and you pulled me from Hell and brought me back to life. 'Just a guy' doesn't cut it." Her eyes shifted away from his again.

"You want to be with me, I know you do-"

"Of course I do," she almost whispered. "What the fuck does that even mean though?" He pulled her back to him and surprisingly, she let him. She slid close, letting him pull her onto his lap and put his arms around her. He kissed her mouth once, smoothing her hair back from her face.

"It means you let me be nice to you," he said.

"I don't think I know how," she said.

"For starters, you could stop feeling guilty when I kiss you," he said, brushing his lips over hers. "You're so damn brusque and stubborn and I love those things about you. I love that rough sense of humor and that foul mouth. But you don't have to be on guard with me."

"How long have you been watching me?" He considered the question.

"A long time," he said.

"Why?"

"I can't, Jude," he answered, looking away from her eyes.

"Gabe-"

"Can't you just trust me and believe me when I say you're important and I love you? Is it so beyond you that you could be worth something to someone else?"

"To an archangel? One of four in the whole universe and I'm the human you're looking after?"

"You're important," he said. "That's all I can say. I'm sorry."


	8. Chapter 8

_...grab your passport and my hand..._

* * *

Gabriel lifted her onto the long bathroom counter in their hotel room. She squirmed, shoving him playfully.

"You're not funny," she said, her voice musical with laughter.

"I'm hilarious," he said, pulling her close in spite of her half-attempt at protest. He nipped at her ear, the wet of his tongue and the heat of his breath making her shiver. "You should've seen the look on your face." He pushed her skirt up, lifting her so there was nothing between her and the cool counter.

"I wear panties around you for a reason," she said. "Sliding your hands up my skirt or down my pants whenever you please, drives me crazy." He slid his hand up her inner thigh. She tried to close her legs, but he nudged his hips between them.

"You're damn lucky I didn't see fit to put one of those little bullet vibrators inside when I took them," he said, his hand sliding between her legs, cupping her against his palm. "Walk around all day with your panties and the remote in my pocket," he shook his head, his middle finger stroking her tender, wet slit, "You know how much I love to watch you squirm." She flushed a deep, raw pink. He pressed his middle finger inside her, the digit sliding in easily.

"Gabe," she sighed. He added his index finger, searching for and finding her clit with his thumb. She moaned, her forehead falling to his shoulder.

"All this for me, Jude?" he asked. She nodded, rocking her hips forward as he moved his fingers inside, scissoring them, his thumb applying delicious pressure to her clit. "Lean back," he said. She did as he told her, leaning back against the bathroom mirror. He removed his fingers and lifted her legs so that her feet rested on the edge of the sink, her thighs spread wide. He looked down at her. "Touch yourself." Her eyes widened, but she obeyed, one of her hands sliding down over her exposed flesh. He watched how she teased the swollen lips of her sex, how she parted herself and found her clit. She circled it with a finger, biting her lip. She looked up at him, saw the bright flush across his cheeks and nose. He jerked her button down open, lifting her breasts out of her bra.

"Why don't you just snap me out of my clothes? You don't seem to have any qualms about doing it with my panties," she said. He smiled.

"Because I rather like the disheveled, ravaged look on you," he said. "And you like the way it feels." She swallowed, still shocked when he knew things like that about her. Things they'd never actually talked about, but that he seemed to glean from her at some point. He took her hand from between her legs, bringing her glistening fingers to his mouth. "Just like you liked knowing I was walking around all day with your panties in my pocket." He put her fingers in his mouth, licking her juices from them. He dropped to a kneeling position, and she felt his mouth close over her wet pussy. He suckled at her entire opening, the hot suction of his mouth so vibrant and strange that she gasped.

"No Gabe, I'm n-not really into the whole oral thing-" He pulled one of her legs over his shoulder, his stubble scraping against her inner thigh. "Oh no, it's too much, Gabe, really-"

"Not into it?" he asked, parting her with his fingers. She looked down at him. He looked up at her from between her legs, those mischievous, honey-colored eyes sparkling up at her. "Or never had someone do it who know what the hell they were doing?" His tongue darted out, connecting with her clit. His eyes never left hers. Jude felt like it took a lot to shock her, but Gabriel looking up at her as he lapped at her clit took her breath away.

"It's j-just, oh fuck," she swore, her hips rolling up as he dragged his tongue along her opening, his fingers splaying her wide. He put his free hand over her abdomen in attempt to keep her steady. "Sorry, I didn't mean to," she said, her voice breathy as she tried to maintain her composure.

"Don't be sorry," he said, pulling back, playing with her with his fingers.

"It's just, I haven't showered since this morning and, you took my panties and-"

"Darling, you taste sweet and smell like the rain," he said. "And right now, all I want is to feel you come against my mouth." She bit her lip, her face burning. She nodded. He resumed what he was doing, his mouth pressing tightly against her, his tongue everywhere she needed it. She felt herself relax into it, letting him have his way. His lips closed around her clit and he sucked the little bud of nerves.

"Oh, oh Gabe, sh-shit," she moaned, her hand sliding around the back of his head, pulling him gently closer. He felt his already painfully aroused erection twitch in his jeans. She realized what she'd done and let go. "Fuck, sorry, I-" He grabbed her hand with his free one, pulling it back to where it'd been, his mouth never leaving her. The gesture both turned her on even more and made her weak. She stroked his soft hair, encouraging him. He continued to suckled at her clit, finding that was what she responded to the most. He found that, along with continuing to play with her with his fingers, if he rhythmically suckled her clit, her legs tensed and shook, her back arched. "Oh, oh my, I'm-I'm coming, Gabriel," she moaned. And she came, her fingers tangling in his hair. He held true, letting her enjoy her aftershocks, before pulling back. He stood up, licking his fingers, his face flushed from her warmth and the passion with which he'd eaten her. He stepped towards the door.

"Come on, let's go to bed," he said.

"What about you?" she asked.

"Oh, I'm not done," he said. She smiled, her eyes drowsy, her cheeks red. She slid down off of the bathroom counter, not realizing how unreliable her legs might be just then. He caught her, lifting her up in his arms. "Poor thing," he cooed in her ear. She curled against him, his heart singing in his chest. He'd always cared for her, for most of her life. But he'd been in love with her since the first time she'd curled against his chest, just the essence of her soul. Gabriel carried Jude to the bed, laying her on it gently. "Take your clothes off," he said. She sat up, taking off her shirt.

"Thought you were partial to the disheveled look," she teased.

"I am. But now I want you naked," he said. The way he said it, like it wasn't a request, but a demand, made her begin to ache again. She slipped the skirt off, then her bra. Once she was naked, she laid back on the bed.

"You should take your clothes off, too," she said. He smiled, taking off his jacket. He started unbuttoning his shirt. When he looked down at what he was doing, one side of his hair fell forward, the light brown locks glowing in the low light. She bit her lip. He got the shirt open and took it off. He stepped out of his shoes and socks, then undid his jeans. He looked up at her, propped up on her elbows, watching him. He shed his pants and underwear, climbing onto the bed with her. She eyed him, tall, lean with modest muscle tone. His erection brushed against her hip as he came to lay next to her on his side. She slid back the covers and slipped between them turning to lay on her side, facing him. He leaned in to kiss her, feeling her hands on his chest, sliding over his sparsely-haired, taut flesh. He watched her look at him, watched her touch him, felt her hand gently grip his hard member.

"You're attracted to this vessel, aren't you Jude?" he asked. She looked up at him, lifting an eyebrow.

"Obviously," she said. "Look at me." He smiled, fondling her breasts, gently pinching and plucking at her nipples. "I'd say your vessel is pretty attracted to me, too." He laughed quietly, pulling her closer. She'd been lazily stroking his erection as they spoke, and he reached down, stilling her hand.

"Rub it against yourself," he murmured. She shifted her hips closer, doing as he told her. She rubbed the hard tip against her pussy, biting her lip as she did. He felt her wetness transfer to him, and she pushed her hips even closer.

"Please, Gabe, I need it," she groaned. "I want you inside, please." He brushed her hand away and turned her on her back, hovering over her. He leaned back on his legs, taking his thick cock in his hand, aligning himself with her entrance. He then pushed himself into her, slowly, until he was completely inside of her. "Oohh," she moaned as he filled her. He then let himself rest on top of her, his weight on his elbows. She lay splayed beneath him, her arms around his back. He drew back, then slid all the way back inside, so slowly that she sobbed, her fingernails digging into his shoulders. He chose a slow rhythm, sliding in and out languorously, enjoying the feeling of her wrapped around him, gripping him tight inside. She held him, kissing his throat and shoulders as the moment moved her. Her hands slid up and down his back, pausing to grip him when he moved and it felt good.

"Harder," she groaned.

"No, we're gonna do this slow," he said. "I don't want to rush." She moaned frustratedly, her hands clenching into little fists on his back. He leaned up, looking down at her. "Make love with me, Jude." She nodded, though he could read the uncertainty in her eyes. Jude held Gabe to her, willing herself to adjust to his slow, sensual rhythm. But the longer it went on, she became increasingly aware that no one had ever been so gentle with her as he was being. If someone'd gone down on her before, it was in some half-ass attempt at foreplay that lasted for twenty seconds. No one'd ever eaten her out to completion. No one'd ever looked at her with such adoration as he had at watching her touch herself. And no one had ever refused her request of 'harder'. Never. She couldn't deny it felt good, all of it. But lying here with him, making love at this slow, tender pace, she felt things inside her shifting. _He must really love me_ , she thought. And it wasn't some sappy, pathetic love. He was good at this, good at loving her. _Then why do I feel like I'm about to freak out?_ , she thought. Suddenly, he was too close. He was smothering her, the weight of his body no longer thrilling or endearing. She broke a cold sweat, her heart racing.

"Gabe, stop, I," she pushed at his chest. He stopped moving, looking down at her. Her eyes were full of tears, her expression panicked. "I can't breathe." Gabriel looked down at her, the fear and panic in her eyes. He rose up off of her, watching her as she sat up. She gasped for air like he'd been smothering her, the tears he'd observed in her eyes now streaming down her face. She swung her legs over the edge of the bed, holding the bed sheet over herself, trying to get her breath. He sat next to her, looking her over with concern.

"Jude, honey, it's alright," he said. "What's wrong?" He searched her eyes, the concern in his only making her feel worse. _How do I tell him, hey, I just figured out, I'm a fucking freak who can't handle when a guy treats me like I'm a person?_ , she thought.

"I'm sorry, I think I just got overwhelmed," she lied.

"You're crying, did I hurt you?" he asked. _It was too much_ , he thought. _You tried to be all demanding and it scared her_. She shook her head.

"I'm okay, just, I don't know," she said. He put his arm around her shoulders.

"You're shaking," he said. "Jude, I'm sorry. It was too much. I fucked up." She turned to him.

"What? No, it's not, it's not you," she said, shaking her head. "It's me. I'm fucked up." The tears continued, even though she knew it was making him feel worse. He watched her. "I, you, you're a good man. And I, I don't really deserve it."

"Come on, Jude, we've been through this-"

"No, this is different. I," she tried to look him in the eyes and it only made her feel worse. "I've n-never slept with someone who gave a shit about me, about how I felt. I've never fucked a guy who didn't refer to it as fucking. Who didn't slam into me or hit me or choke me while he fucked me."

"I'd never-"

"You don't get it. I, I don't think I can, you know, get off like this," she said. She chanced a look at him. He looked like someone'd hit him. "I'm fucked up, Gabriel. And I'm sorry." She wiped her eyes, feeling lower than she'd felt in a long time.

"No, I'm sorry," he said.

"Shut up, you're the good guy. You were trying to do it all right," she said. "A good woman would've enjoyed it instead of freaking out." He pulled her to him, lifting her into his lap, the sheets separating their naked flesh. He held her, and she did the only thing her soul seemed to know how to in his arms. She curled against him, covering her face with her hands. He rocked her, letting her cry.

"I should've listened to you," he said, pressing a kiss to her hairline. "I tried to come in and be this awesome, gentle lover. I didn't think about your specific needs at all. I'm so sorry."

"Stop being sorry," she said. "You didn't make me this way."

"I love you, Judas," he said. "Please don't give up on us." She pulled back looking at him. "Please." She felt the angel's love more sharply than she ever had.

"I'm not," she said.


	9. Chapter 9

_...I can make the good girls bad for a weekend..._

* * *

Gabriel held her through the night, her smaller body cradled back against his. His body didn't require sleep, but he still liked to rest, to hold her while she slept. He listened to her breathe, listened as she sighed and murmured in her sleep.

He thought about the things she'd said. _She's right, and I'm an idiot for not understanding it before she had to say something_ , he thought. She'd been mistreated her whole life, and in Hell, and he'd expected her to enjoy slow, sensual lovemaking. _Think you're the fucking hero because you pulled her from Hell, because she's your Mate and she clearly loves you?_ He thought about the things she'd endured, the things she'd survived. Abuse an animal for most of it's life, then try to be loving and pet it. It will either flinch away or try to attack you in self-defense.

* * *

Jude stood in the shower the next morning, willing the water to wash away her self-disgust. He'd been so good to her, and she just couldn't let it happen. _I literally panicked because he was going slow and being gentle_ , she thought. _What the hell is wrong with me?_

* * *

Gabe sat on the edge of the bed. He listened for her to sing. She always sang in the shower. Just like he knew it was stiflingly hot and steamy in there while she showered.

But she wasn't singing. And he knew why.

* * *

Jude leaned against the shower wall, feeling the tears welling up, glad she was shut in by herself. _You stupid cunt_ , she thought. _Can't even enjoy the love of a good man, er, whatever he is. Can't find balance or get off if he isn't slapping you around or fucking you with no regard to your needs._ The tears came, and she pressed her palm over her mouth, safeguarding against any sobs that might try to escape her.

* * *

Gabe broke his own rule, and heard all of what she was thinking, all of the hate she had for herself. It broke his heart. And with that, he snapped himself out of his clothes.

* * *

Jude heard the bathroom door and straightened up.

"Gabe?" she called out. He pulled back the shower curtain. "You scared me."

"Sorry," he said with his signature smirk. "Room for two?" He stepped into the shower with her, not waiting for her reply. She shifted to make room for him, hoping it wasn't obvious she'd been crying.

"I thought angels didn't have to shower or," she said, suddenly confronted with his warm, but piercing eyes, "You know, do other mundane mortal tasks."

"We don't," he said. "But, I noticed you weren't singing." She frowned at him, confused.

"Singing?"

"Yeah," he said. "Whatever song you've got in your head, you usually sing it when you shower." He pulled her to him slowly. "One of your few really endearing quirks." He smiled, that charming smile that somehow started and ended in his eyes. She couldn't help but be drawn to him.

"I guess I'm just not in a singing mood," she said.

"Please don't beat yourself up about last night."

"I'm not," she protested. _Anything to hide the fact that she actually is a flawed human being._

"And don't lie to me," he said. "It's all over your face." He wrapped his arms around her waist, bringing her flush against his bare chest. "It was my fault."

"Oh shut up, you were doing everything right," she said. "It's me who's fucked up."

"You've survived too much," he said. "It's only natural that it would affect you."

"So I can't even enjoy normal sex with a normal guy," she said. He laughed and she looked up at him. And then she caught his meaning, rolling her eyes, a smile trying to emerge on her lips. "You know what I mean."

"Just let me love you," he said, leaning in, kissing her tentatively.

"I'm trying," she said, her lips brushing his. And he knew it was true. She was trying to let him in. But sometimes, parts of her psyche shaped by her past would form roadblocks that they would have to work around.

"Tell me how to love you," he said. She'd never felt more exposed, not when he'd splayed her on the bathroom vanity last night, not when he'd admitted to knowing all of what she'd done in Hell. She leaned her forehead against his, squeezing her eyes shut tightly.

"You have take control," she said, her voice soft, her tone ashamed. "You have to be rough. Not, like, hurt me, but," she paused, willing herself to say the words she knew were accurate. "Forceful." He felt the weight of what she said, knowing it hadn't been easy for her to admit.

"I don't want to hurt you," he said.

"I'll tell you if you are," she said, leaning into kiss him. "But I need it." He pulled back, cupping her face in his hands, making her look up at him. He kissed her, then took a step back. She thought he was going to leave, that maybe she'd finally said the magic words to shake him.

"Turn around," he said.

"What?"

"I said, turn around," he repeated. She frowned, not understanding. Until he winked. _Oh_ , she thought. _Oohhh_. She turned to face the shower spray, her back to him. "Put your hands on the wall." She felt a tremor of arousal creep up her sides, making her shiver, her nipples drawn tight. She placed her hands on the wall so he could see them, standing under the warm spray.

* * *

Gabriel watched the realization set in, watched her obey his directions. He observed her, doing as she was told, practically able to see the chills running along her body. He watched the hot water cascade over her naked body, over her pretty back, her cute little ass, down her long legs. He came to her, wrapping an arm loosely around her, his hand resting against her stomach. He pressed his torso against her, let her feel his erection against the curve of her ass. He placed his free hand over his own handprint on her back

"You belong to me," he said in her ear. She squirmed, the hand on her stomach sliding up to cup one of her breasts. "You're marked for me." She was aware of what he was doing, his cock pressing between her thighs from behind, his hand cupping and fondling her breasts, his other hand pressed over the handprint, his handprint. She took one of her hands from the wall, intending to help nudge him inside her from behind. But he grabbed her hand, placing it back on the wall. "I didn't tell you to move." She shivered, biting her bottom lip. _Yes_ , she thought with relief. Suddenly, both of his hands were on her breasts, cupping them, squeezing, flicking and pinching her nipples. He stood flush against her back, kissing and biting her neck and shoulders. He managed to slide his cock between her legs from behind, and he moved his hips, stroking her increasingly sensitive folds with his erection. She ached for penetration, but he wasn't going to let her have it so soon. And she knew it.

"Please, Gabe, please," she moaned, trying to rub herself against his cock. She felt how hard he was, how his cock pressed against her. She thought of how she'd stopped him mid-fuck the night before and cringed.

"Stop that," he rasped.

"Please," she whimpered. He pinched her nipples, slightly twisting them as he did.

"If I want you to beg, I'll tell you to," he said, his voice rough, almost cold. She whimpered again, this time just an unintelligible, frustrated noise. He pressed his mouth to her ear, skillfully running his tongue along the edge. "You like that, Jude?" He asked, continuing to roll her nipples between his fingers. She nodded.

"I need more, please," she moaned, softly, almost hesitating. Without warning, he released her breasts. One arm snaked around her middle, while the opposite hand flashed down, connecting with her bottom. She yelped, squirming deliciously against him.

"I told you to stop begging," returning to the cold, rough tone. "Get on your knees. Now." She obeyed, turning to face him. "I didn't say turn around. Face forward." Confused, but too turned on to truly care, she did as she was told. He knelt behind her, pushing her head and shoulders toward the drain, her ass in the air. "Touch yourself. I want to see how turned on you are." She shivered, sliding her hand between her legs. She heard him stifle a groan, watching her fingers appear between her thighs.

"You've got a thing for watching me play with myself, don't you?" she asked. He laughed, lapsing out of character for a moment.

"I think I do," he said, his voice warm again. She looked over her shoulder at him, his golden eyes meeting hers. "Are you wet for me?" She nodded. She noticed he was stroking himself. "Spread yourself, I want to see how pink you are," he said. She spread the lips of her sex for him, hoping he'd see fit to fuck her. _Because now, I really need it_ , she thought. She watched him look at her, watched as he bit his lip. He crawled toward her, raising back up on his knees behind her. "Keep holding," he said, gentler. He took his cock in his hand again and she felt him begin rubbing the tip against her tender, splayed opening. She squirmed a little, trying to rub back against him. "Let go," he said. Again, she obeyed. He continued to stroke her, slowly, penetrating her ever so silently with just the tip.

"Gabe," she cried softly, her legs and arms shaking to hold her up amidst all of her arousal.

"Beg," he said. She shivered, the hot tension inside her growing more and more maddening by the minute.

"Please, please Gabriel. Put it in me, please. I need it, I need you," she begged.

"What if I don't?" he asked playfully, just to see what she'd say.

"At this point, I'd lose my fucking mind," she said. He laughed, positioning himself, gripping her hips. He entered her in one swift stroke, slamming his hips forward against her. She cried out, caught off guard.

"Wouldn't want that," he said. She pushed back, clenching her inner muscles around him in waves. "F-Fuck," he swore. He drew back, slamming into her again. He began to slowly pound her.

"Gabe," she moaned. He grabbed a fistful of her hair and pulled her back against his chest so she was sitting back in his lap, impaled even more deeply. She leaned against him, her hands on his thighs, his ass, encouraging him. He wrapped an arm around her waist, the other hand sliding down to where they were joined, finding and playing with her clit.

"Am I doing this right?" he panted.

"Yes, yes," she whispered. "Harder." He hesitated, but remembered how hard it'd been for her to admit what she needed. _Don't be an overly cautious jerk and not give it to her_ , he thought. _If I hurt her, I'll heal her._ He began thrusting in and out of her even harder, their movements making wet slapping noises. It was obscene, but she couldn't get enough. And he couldn't get enough of her. "Gabe, I'm, I'm gonna," she stammered, the rising pleasure obliterating all thought.

"Come, come for me," he growled in her ear, holding her, fucking her as possessively and roughly as he could. "I want you to come for me, now," he demanded, pinching her clit. And she came, violently. He felt her flutter around him inside, felt her quaking in his arms.

"Gabe, oh m-my God," she arched, feeling herself falling apart. "Come with me, I want you to c-come with me." He was so close, all it took was a few more thrusts and he came too. She felt him, his arms locked around her waist tensely, his forehead against her shoulder.

"Ahh, fuck, f-fuck," he swore, pressing deep and holding still within her as he came, his body shuddering. He held her, at once fiercely and tenderly. She stroked his tense arms, relishing in the aftershocks. He lifted his head, looking down at her. He leaned in, pressing kisses to her mouth, her cheek, her forehead.


End file.
